The One True Heir

Chapter 3

Before I start this chapter, I'd like to get the ages out of the way. I wanted to do this in the last chapter but I completely forgot about it lol. I'm going to keep the ages similar to the show. The changes that come in due to my OC are in the age of The Baratheon/Lannister children. The rest of the ages are the same as the show.

Edric: 16; Joffrey: 14; Myrcella: 10; Tommen: 8

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The following morning greeted Edric with more cold. He took his time getting out of bed, unwilling to leave the comforts of the covers and the bed. Eventually, he had to push himself out of his bed and freshen up for the day. He sat with his family to break his fast, his father was not there, probably breaking fast with Lord Stark. His mother was silently eating the food presented to them. Joffrey looked half asleep still, Tommen dozing off and Myrcella sleepily playing with her food. All of them were used to waking up early, but none of them wanted to leave the comforts of their beds just yet from the looks of things.

Once breakfast was done they all went their respective ways. The Queen went to find her brother, the twin but not the imp. Joffrey and Tommen went to the courtyard, where the training would begin. Myrcella went to the Septa for her studies. It left Edric on his lonesome, free to wander and have a look around. Something he had done the previous day, all but one place. The crypts should be empty at this point unless Lord Stark was down there to pay his respects. He doubted it, who pays their dead respects almost every day?

The Crypts were located in the oldest section of Winterfell, its ironwood doors located near the First Keep and the Lichyard were old and heavy. Lucky for him though they were wide open. The stone steps down were winding spiral and narrow, the darkness of it messing with his senses and the chilly air prickling on his skin. From what he had read, these stone steps lead to multiple levels. One of these multiple levels contained a vaulted ceiling, a long line of granite pillars, two by two, between which are entombed the dead of House Stark. These were the crypts, which contained the tombs of the deceased Stark family members.

Edric walked down this very crypt, feeling the gaze of multiple men on him. There were no men down here, just statues of the previous Stark Kings and Lords of Winterfell. Their gaze told him that he didn't belong down here, that he was not one of them. Edric ignored them all. They were dead, just statues with rusted iron longswords across their lap and a direwolf statue curled at their feet. It was in a way fascinating to him, how even after their death these men lived on in a fashion.

It reminded him of the dark cellars below the Red Keep. Nobody went down there usually, it was dark and the way down was treacherous, where one wrong step and fall could end in a broken limb at best and death at worst. But it was also the place where his father had moved the dragon banners and skulls once he had won the rebellion and anointed King of The Seven Kingdoms. Nineteen Skulls were down there, each of varying sizes. Some were as small as a mastiff dog's skull, while some were large enough to squash a man easily. Three amongst them stood out as the largest, the skulls of the dragons that belonged to The Conqueror and his sisters-wives. Those three skulls were perfectly known, but for the rest, nobody was sure of which dragon they came from. There were theories that possibly Meleys of Rhaenys Targaryen, Arrax of Lucerys Velaryon, and Caraxes of Daemon Targaryen were down there. Jon Arryn had told him about the skulls when Edric had learned of their existence when he was young and had also provided him with the material when he wanted to learn more about these dragons. The Prince and Heir had a fascination with dragons and loved to spend time as a child in the cellars with these skulls. His father had berated him for this, after which his trips down there were in secret. He would spend hours down there, talking to these skulls, reading from the books the stories that were written about them. His favourite to talk to had been the Conqueror's dragon Balerion, on whose skull he would sit and pretend that he was riding the dragon into battle.